


i'll stop the world and melt with you

by serenitysea



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Fun, Humor, I can't believe I actually wrote this, Romance, Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-18
Packaged: 2018-04-25 12:48:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,325
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4961236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/serenitysea/pseuds/serenitysea
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>five times skyeward went on vacation. (... <i>sort</i> of.)</p><p>set during S1 and ranging on from there.</p><p>--</p><p>”Skye. Skye. C’mon, look alive. We’re not messing around anymore, this is serious.”</p><p>“Robot, you’re <i>alllllllllllways</i> serious. We could, in fact, be messing around and <i>quite happily I MIGHT ADD<i> but you’re <i>Officer Prudepants</i> and I –”</i></i></p><p>
  <i>
    <i>“Will you <i>keep your voice down<i> –”</i></i></i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“– For one, am truly disappointed that we did not join the mile high club and –”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p><p>
  <i>
    <i>
      <i>
        <i>“How in god’s name have you managed to <i>get drunker</i> after exiting the plane?”</i>
      </i>
    </i>
  </i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. that time they went to california

**Author's Note:**

> I DONT KNOW GUYS, I DON'T. KNOW. 
> 
> this is for the lovely soul who prompted me on tumblr for "5 skyeward on vacation headcanons!" i hope this does it justice, friend.

It’s not that Ward doesn’t like California. 

On the surface, it’s shiny and everyone’s pleasant and there are healthy lunch options around every corner. 

And then you dig a little deeper and… 

There’s plastic surgery and weird back alley deals and – 

Okay, so California isn’t that unlike the rest of the world, in his opinion. 

Bright pealing laughter echoes from his left and he turns to find Skye surrounded by half a dozen surfers who are _all too happy_ to show her the tricks of the trade. (Like she _honestly_ doesn't know what sex wax is _good god,_ are these guys baked out of their minds or --)

Ward takes a deep breath and is about ten seconds from heading over there (black suit and polished shoes be damned) when she catches his eye and winks playfully. So. He holds his ground, as much as it kills him. 

(And it _does_ kill him. Did she _have_ to wear a tank top cut so low?) 

Skye practically skips her way back over to where he’s leaning against the car and unfurls a notepad with what appear to be hieroglyphics scribbled all over it. 

“Behold. The best tacos on the coast, from Monterey to Carlsbad. We’re in business.” 

He can’t help but sigh when he takes the hand-drawn map from where it’s clutched in her hand. “I got the license plate of the guy who’s suspected to be trafficking drugs under the table and –” 

“Ward.” Skye folds her arms. “We did _not_ go through all of this just to get information on drug trafficking.” 

Ward pauses. “Actually –”

“No.” She snatches the paper back, and twirls around him in a flashy move designed to distract him. (He should know. He _taught_ her that move.) Skye has slid behind the wheel of the car in a matter of seconds and filched his extra pair of aviators from the dashboard. “Hop in loser. We’re getting tacos.”


	2. that time they went to london

Quinjets were definitely faster than traditional air transport when crossing the Atlantic, but Coulson had wanted Skye to have the full _Across the Pond_ experience and somehow Ward got tasked with making sure she didn’t get roaring drunk in first class on their VirginAirways flight.

Under his supervision, Skye has only managed to get charmingly tipsy – something that amuses their flight crew to no end, especially as he basically has to sling her over his shoulder and _carry her off the damn plane_ up until they are about to go through Border Patrol –

 

(”Skye. _Skye_. C’mon, look alive. We’re not messing around anymore, this is serious.”

“Robot, you’re _alllllllllllways_ serious. We _could_ , in fact, be messing around and _quite happily I MIGHT ADD_ but you’re _Officer Prudepants_ and I –”

“Will you _keep your voice down_ –”

“– For one, am truly disappointed that we did not join the mile high club and –”

“ _How_ in god’s name have you managed to get _drunker_ after exiting the plane?”

“Did you _knowwwwwww_ they gave me these little itty bitty bottles of tequila while you were in the bathroom and basically it only takes two sips to get them down, so I –”)

 

The officer gives them both a stern look but Ward doesn’t dare remove his arm from where it is banded tightly around Skye’s shoulders for fear she will lose her footing completely and they’ll be left spending the night in a British prison cell somewhere (instead of the posh hotel they’d booked not far from the city proper) dark and creepy.

Their passports are stamped with minimal fuss and Ward bundles Skye into the nearest taxi before her legs give out totally, while somehow managing to convey the right address to the driver and fasten her seatbelt just before they go zooming away from the airport.

Skye makes it two steps into the hotel room, catches sight of the huge king sized bed and immediately dissolves into laughter, falling to the floor. 

“After all that,” she crows delightedly, not putting up the slightest bit of resistance when he scoops her up and deposits her on the fluffy mattress. “And we have to share a _bed_! I bet you’re already devising some kind of pillow barrier!”

He ~~is~~ would never.

Clearly she’s drunk and _punchy._

(Perhaps this was why Coulson had warned him to keep her away from the alcohol at all costs.)

“I’m going to shower,” he calmly announces, refusing to blush as she leers at him exaggeratedly. “Try to at least get your boots off before you fall asleep.”

“Like I’m somehow incapable of taking off my _boots_ , is that what you’re saying?” Skye’s predictable outrage is practically a balm to his ears as he walks away and Ward has to consider that perhaps she is not the only one affected by their transatlantic flight.

(This was why he preferred taking the Quinjet.)

When he exits the shower, Skye is sprawled diagonally across the bed, snoring loud enough to wake the dead. Her scarf is tangled dangerously tight around her neck (she tosses and turns in her sleep) and her shirt is bunched up on the side, revealing more of her skin than he’s used to seeing in an environment other than the cargo hold.

…And she’s only gotten one boot off.


	3. that time they went to rome

“They say Rome is for lovers.”

Ward begins choking on his espresso.

Skye glances over at him innocently. “Wrong pipe there, Robot?”

“It’s Paris,” he retorts, clearing his throat. At her confusion, he clarifies, “For lovers. That’s what they say.”

He’s beginning to feel _really stupid_ when a tiny smile curls on her lips, which brings him untold levels of relief and he finishes off the coffee.

“So you’re saying we should go to Paris, then?”

Espresso spews everywhere.

“We’re _not_ lovers!?” It’s amazing how he can rationally be aware of the fact that his voice is several octaves higher than usual and yet be utterly unable to do anything about it.

Skye looks enormously put out by this minor detail and walks away mumbling something under her breath. He can just barely make out the words: “Not _yet_ , anyway.”

Which is, of course, when he actually loses his footing in the cobblestone street and crashes into a fruit stand.

*

Skye has it in her mind that she wants pasta, and lots of it.

The reservation she hacked –

(”Excuse me, if I happen to have switched a _few_ letters in the last name of the couple dining at 6pm and the couple who slid in at 9 – whoops, sorry bud guess you’ll be dining late this evening –”

“– Skye, you went in and _erased them from the reservation book_.”)

\-- **_correction_** \-- _graciously_ _obtained_ for them fell through on account that they needed to check out Coulson’s intel stating a potential 0-8-4 was somewhere inside the nearby cathedral.

The tip turned out to be nothing, but they had since missed their reservation and Skye won’t stop _complaining_ about all the pasta she was now missing out on.

“Yards of beautiful homemade noodles, just swimming happily in the most gorgeous red sauce you’ve ever laid eyes on and –”

“Please stop waxing poetic about food.”

“– the perfect crusty bread with just a hint of garlic and oil, topped off with a glass of wine –”

“It’s like you’re not even listening.”

“– All I ever wanted was a meal to write home about –”

“You haven’t exactly been _starving_ , Skye.” He remembers the three cannolis she’d put away after lunch and privately wonders just where, exactly, the calories were going.

“– Instead, I’ll be forever deprived of the most amazing food in my _entire life_ and –”

Ward clamps a quick hand over her mouth and does his best to ignore the quick shock that practically _sings_ up his arm in response to the feel of her warm lips beneath his hand. “If you would be so kind as to take notice of your surroundings, Rookie.”

Her brow furrows when she sees a tiny, otherwise nondescript door in the little stone building in front of them.

It isn’t until she nips sharply at his hand that he drops it, yelping loudly.  “ _Dammit_ , Skye!”

Even smirking at his pain doesn’t deter her from her need to get to the bottom of things. “I don’t get it. You dragged me here to a door?”

“Not just _any_ door. The door to the best Italian food in Rome.”

Skye’s jaw actually drops open. “But they said… it was an urban myth. This place doesn’t even _exist_.”

It is now Ward’s turn to smirk. “ _They_ were wrong.”

*

It is hands down the best meal Skye has ever had.

Of course, it certainly doesn’t hurt when the owners recognize Ward when they walk in and begin speaking to him in rapidfire Italian – or the fact that they don’t even have to order when dishes start arriving with alarming quantities of food piled on top of them.

The appreciative noises Skye makes as she devours the food are borderline _filthy_ and Ward doesn’t even attempt to hide his embarrassment.

“I’m sorry. I’d like to say she’s usually well-behaved, but…”

Skye is too busy chewing a gigantic mouthful of pasta to reply with anything other than a pointed glare.

The owner laughs and says something in Italian that makes Ward choke on his wine.

While Skye is busy grinning happily at his expense, Ward finds doesn’t have the heart to tell her about the red sauce smeared along the apple of her cheek.

(It’s the best meal he’s ever had, too.)


	4. that time they went to disney world

“This was the worst idea you’ve ever had.” 

“I don’t think you can unequivocally state –” 

“– Believe me, _I can_.” 

There is a squawk from the speakerbox to their left and then: 

“ _Turn 90 degrees then remain still. And **stop** talking. That’s an order._ ”

They do. 

And under his breath, Ward hisses: “We got thrown in jail _at Disney World_!”

*

**36 HOURS EARLIER.**

“OH MY GOD **_LOOK_**!!!!” 

Ward very nearly shoots the loud family beside them. 

Skye puts her hand on his arm, seeming to have some trouble suppressing a rather large grin. “Easy there, cowboy. It’s just a little Disney excitement.” 

“Wish it was Disney _extinction_ ,” he relaxes his stance and allows her to tug him into the next flow of people merging through Cinderella’s Castle. 

The lighting is too dim for the enclosed space and if Skye hadn’t gripped his elbow it would be all too easy to become separated in the crowd. He’s already spotted three dark corners that would be perfect for all kinds of _snatch and grab_ and wonders why Coulson signed off on this venture in the first place. (It’s like the man didn’t even _look_ at the crime statistics Ward had spent so much time researching.)

This place is a Specialist’s _nightmare_. 

He is going to be twitching for weeks.

They come out of Cinderella’s Castle (with a sigh of relief on his part), only to be assaulted with signs for all kinds of Princess-themed paraphernalia and two dozen cart vendors trying to sell food, drinks and hats. 

Ward feels a migraine building at the base of his skull. 

“Come on, let’s get Mickey Ears!”

The only reason he doesn’t fight Skye as she drags him to the nearest vendor is because some kid just dropped an entire ice cream cone on his right foot and is wailing louder than a Level Six Helicarrier Evacuation drill. 

It’s official. 

He’s in Hell. 

*

Somewhere between _It’s A Small World_ and _The Haunted Mansion_ , Skye has worked up an appetite. 

This is not entirely surprising, because Skye is remarkably similar to a garbage compactor in that she can eat large quantities of food and be found demanding more almost immediately after. 

It is, however, slightly alarming when Ward is faced with the menu prices. 

“ _Sixteen dollars_ for chicken fingers and french fries? Are you _out of your mind_?!”

“Come _onnnnn_ ,” Skye complains, taking advantage of his momentary distraction from her closer-than-usual proximity to pickpocket his wallet with a charming grin. 

She hands over the money with a flourish and presents him with his very own miniature-sized portion of chicken tenders and carrot sticks. 

“Thanks,” Ward reluctantly says, halfheartedly glaring at her. He lifts a chicken finger and is not at all reassured by the way it wobbles in his grip. 

Skye gives him two enthusiastic thumbs up and continues plowing through her french fries. 

*

The trouble begins when they’re in line for Space Mountain. 

(As it so often does.)

There’s a group of Boy Scouts in front of them, with the nerdiest Troop Leader Ward has ever seen. Ordinarily, he wouldn’t let it bother him but the pre-teen boys keep making lewd gestures while pointing and giggling at Skye and that – 

– that is not something he is going to let go uncontested. 

“Ward, don’t –” Skye warns softly, trying like hell to keep him at her side. 

He flicks at her Minnie Mouse ear teasingly. “Stay here. I’ll be right back.” 

While he walks away he hears Skye muttering, “This will all end in tears.”

*

In the end, it’s kind of a blur. 

He has a vague memory of a minor – _MINOR_ – disagreement with the other guy…

( “What do you _mean_ you’re not going to tell them to stop? Their behavior is _completely_ inappropriate and objectifies my partner –”

“Oh I’ll just _bet_ she’s your partner, pal –”

“– _Excuse_ _me_ what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“You think you’ve got everybody fooled with those dumb mouse ears on your head but I know _exactly_ what you’re thinking, pal, and I can’t say that I blame you. She is one fine piece of –”)

And then, the next thing he knows, there are police officers cuffing his hands behind his back and he’s vaguely aware of Skye shouting obscenities at the men in uniform and then _she’s_ getting cuffed and… 

Honestly, Ward just closes his eyes after he hears one of the officers swearing about ‘ _the girl in the mouse ears who just kneed him in the balls_.’

Coulson is going to kill him.

**Author's Note:**

> \+ [tumblr](http://b-isforbombshell.tumblr.com)


End file.
